


Near, Possible, & Inevitable

by Pinkmink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Angst, Impala, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmink/pseuds/Pinkmink
Summary: “You wanna go, angel?” Dean growled, and Castiel’s gaze dropped to his lips. There was a struggle behind the blue eyes, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer Dean.
“What I want,” Castiel said, “Is for you to stop treating this, us, like an afterthought. Like all we’re doing is fucking and that’s just fine. Because I’m not just fucking you, Dean.”
Dean’s eyes sharpened, but his heart didn’t. It fell with the guilt in those words.
“I’m not just fucking you.”
*****A short, fluffy, smutty story about Dean's inability to say those three little words. He was always better with actions anyway.





	Near, Possible, & Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosie_berber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosie_berber/gifts).



> I've been so blessed to get to work with the incredibly talented Rosie_Berber and last week, she had a birthday! Naturally I had to write her a little something, because smut is the gift that keeps on giving. Happy Belated Birthday Rosie! You are too precious for this world<3

  
  


_ “For a few seconds they looked silently into each other’s eyes, and the distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible, and inevitable.” _

_ Leo Tolstoy _

_ War and Peace _

__

It was approaching dusk by the time they’d arrived. Yellow and orange painted streaks across the wide sky, reminding Dean more of the aesthetic of New Mexico than the dregs of Texas. They drove into Midland on fumes, and he could feel the desperate sputter of the engine where his foot met the pedal.

 

“I shoulda stopped in Lubbock for gas...” He said, smoothing his hands over the worn leather, feeling a twinge of guilt from pushing his baby too far. He may as well have been speaking solely to the vehicle he drove - the man next to him was an expert in the silent treatment, and had been winning their angry game for the better part of the last five hours.

 

He supposed the game had been afoot longer than that, but they’d at least shared cursory conversation in the two days previous they’d been traveling. No more than “Hungry?” or “You make some extra salt rounds?” or “Cas, can we please talk?”, all of which were met with grunts or occasional nods.

 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, when he and Cas had taken this new step into, well,  _ whatever this was _ , he’d thought happily that hooking up with a dude meant avoiding arguments like this. Those kinds of no win mind-fuck games you have to guess what the other is thinking. Guys are simple, straight shooters, and easier to please (in more ways than one). As much as he loved Cas, there was a part of Dean that was pleased he was with a man, period – life was going to be so much easier.

 

Except that it wasn’t. Something happened in Kansas, before they’d left on the job and now he’s been traveling with a sad, silent hunk of an angel. Not exactly his idea of a good time.

 

“If your goal was to do this entire trip without speaking, you’re doing a real bang up job, Cas.” Dean huffed.

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a dark mop of hair turn towards the window.

 

“Come on, man. What’s the deal?”

 

The squeaking sound of wind, pipped too tightly though a hole in the chassis Dean would soon need to find and plug, seemed to be the only answer.

 

“You know, if I wanted to play these fucking games, I should have just hooked up with a chick.”

 

Dean’s tone was dark, and harsh. The moment the words escaped his lips he know he’d crossed a line – he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt as if he was standing outside of a hornets nest with a stick that was just a bit too short.

 

There was a slow movement from Cas, a calculated turn of his head towards Dean. The sun on the horizon hit his face, and he squinted, nostrils flaring. Dean suppressed the way his stomach fluttered to see his expression; the wrath of that angel just  _ does _ things to him.

 

“If you think all we’re doing is hooking up, Dean,” Cas said, “Then perhaps you should have. I’d hate for you to strain yourself.”

 

Dean’s eyebrows peaked. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

Castiel shrugged with a faked air of frivolity. “I mean, it would have been much simpler for you to carry on with your previous accolades. Clearly, being in a long term relationship has proved to be too much of a challenge for you.”

 

Gone were the warm feelings and sexy thoughts that Castiel’s exasperation had stirred. They disappeared in a harsh blaze, lit inside his chest with indignance. He at least had the wherewithal to pull over before responding, taking a sharp right off the highway and into an abandoned gas station.

 

Switching the car into park (a bit too harsh, and his fingers lingered over the gear shift in apology) he turned his body to Castiel, who’d resumed looking out the window.

 

“Alright – if we’re doing this, I sure as hell ain’t driving.” He controlled the timber of his voice, but it still sounded vaguely like when he used to order a much younger Sam around.

 

“I don’t have anything else to say.” Cas clarified to the tumble brush rolling across the old graveled lot outside.

 

“Ugh!” Dean threw up his hands, “You’re such a chick!”

 

“You know, no matter how often you say it, I will never take a comparison with a women as an insult. I’ve known many incredibly strong women who-“

 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

 

They fell into stillness again, the sounds of the whirling Texas wind stirring small dirt devils around the Impala. They were parked in the shadow of an old overhang, a place where they might have gotten gas some thirty years earlier. Squinting, he could see in the distance the lights of a Chevron station just a bit up the road. He probably should have drove a little further and pulled over there, but on the other hand, having a big gay lover’s quarrel within the sights of the various truckers parked for the night in the huge parking lot wasn’t exactly the best idea.

 

He sighed, his fingers drifting to his hairline to wipe the perspiration that had started to gather. The day had been hot, but nights in Texas were considerably cooler, and they’d need to find a hotel room soon.

 

“Cas – please,” he started again, discovering a new layer of patience as his eyes trailed to the huddled figure opposite him. “I don’t want to fight.”

 

“You always want to fight.” Cas murmured.

 

And with that, he felt that newfound patience leak out of him quickly, as if a balloon had burst. Fine. If Cas wants a fight, he’ll give him a damn fight.

 

“You never want to…” Cas trailed off, turning his head back to face the windshield. It was then that Dean finally saw the redness around his eyes, accentuating the dark circles that had always graced his features. The angel looked wrecked, like he’d come walking out of a storm. Dean reached out instinctively to comfort him, unlatching his seatbelt and scooting across the seat.

 

If he’d expected Castiel to fall into his arms and they’d hug it out, he was sadly mistaken.

“No.” Cas barked and grabbed Dean by his lapels. He drew him closer, the huff of hot breath ghosting across Dean’s nose. He wanted to be amused by the smell – onion rings and coffee from their last pit stop – but instead his heart raced and he found himself almost fearful by the sudden show of force. Their eyes were locked and it took all of Dean’s strength to shift his expression from slightly panicked, to mostly pissed. 

 

“You wanna go, angel?” Dean growled, and Castiel’s gaze dropped to his lips. There was a struggle behind the blue eyes, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer Dean.

 

“What I want,” Castiel said, “Is for you to stop treating this, us, like an afterthought. Like all we’re doing is fucking and that’s just fine. Because I’m not just fucking you, Dean.”

 

Dean’s eyes sharpened, but his heart didn’t. It fell with the guilt in those words.

 

“I’m not just fucking you.”

 

“Aren’t you though?” Castiel’s tone mocked the seriousness of the way he still clung to Dean close, like he might shove him straight through the windshield. He sure as hell had the strength to do it. “Ever since we started, _ this, _ that’s all we do. Hunt and fuck. And anytime I come close to having a talk with you about us, you make excuses. You’re so damn afraid of a chick flick moment, you won’t even say that you love me.”

 

He wished Cas would just hit him. Physical pain he could handle. The betrayed look in those blue eyes though, made him wish he was back in the pit.

 

“You know I do.” His voice was weak.

 

“Is that why you called us ‘fuck buddies’ to Sam?” Castiel’s eyes narrowed and there it was – the foot Dean had shoved in his own damn mouth. He winced to remember it, something said off the cuff and he should have known by Sam’s bewildered look when he said it that it was the wrong way to classify their relationship. But ‘boyfriends’ or ‘life partners’ or ‘soulmates’ were just a hair too touchy-feely for Dean’s taste.

 

“Cas…”

 

“Don’t.” Cas bit at his lip, forcing an air of indignance. There was a heat between them, churning inches below the surface, like a dam about to burst. Dean reached his hands to rest around Castiel’s neck, lightly touching the racing pulse at the corner of his jaw. The coolness of his touch sent goosebumps across Castiel’s skin and he brushed his pressured fingertips along them.

 

“Please – Cas….” Dean could feel the grip on his lapels loosening, the determined blue eyes returning to their previously weary state. “Let me – show you.”

 

“Tell me, Dean.” The graveled voice broke and his hands dropped, a small surrender. “Don’t show me, tell me. Please.”

 

Dean closed his eyes to the savage way those words cut to his core, willing himself to pull together. This was not a complicated task, and he was a chicken shit for waiting this long to do it. He opened his eyes and shifted his hands to frame Castiel’s face. The angel suddenly looked much younger, vulnerable - it reminded Dean of when they first met. Sparks flew then in that barn, and they flew now in the front seat of his car. 

 

“Castiel,” he began, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. “I love you.”

 

He felt as if he’d ripped off a band aid, the relief was so tangible as the words finally left his lips. But Cas looked no less upset, his eyebrows drawn together as if he’d said nothing at all. In truth, Dean had never really figured out how to properly convey the depths of his affection in words, and he could see his admission wasn’t getting him very far. Ignoring the potential for rejection, he leaned in tentatively, as if to give Cas an out if he was still angry. He didn’t move, even as Dean’s lips finally touched his in a soft kiss.

 

“Again.” Cas breathed against his mouth, phrased like a request.

 

“I love you.” Dean answered, easier this time with his eyes closed and nuzzled against Castiel’s cheek.

 

“Again.” A command, lower, underscored with a hand that wrapped itself around Dean’s skull, drawing him closer.

 

“I love you.” Muffled, spoken between breaths.

 

Castiel shifted sidewise, parting his legs and sitting lower with his back to the hard door panel. He pulled back with a raised eyebrow that felt less an invitation than an order, and Dean obeyed, moving himself to press the angel into worn leather.

 

“Again.”

 

“Damnit, Cas…” Dean whispered, trailing open mouthed kisses down salty stubble. He could feel the heat coiling in his gut, the familiar pangs of arousal at being dictated how to act. The angel could get him to do anything, as long as he said it with that commanding tone that sounded like whiskey poured over actual rocks. 

 

“I love you.” He repeated with a thrust. Cas moaned, a sound somewhere between a yelp and a sob, and his hands grasped lower. Dean had never seen him like this; their sex life was pretty hot, but Castiel had never looked so broken before underneath him. He glanced down into that blue haze as the realization came crashing down – how selfish he’d been, how fragile this thing between them actually was.

 

“I love you more than anything.” He willed himself to not look away as he spoke, to give Castiel the reverence of the truth of his words, no matter how much it made him squirm. Reaching up he cupped his cheek, feeling the muscles pull those wide lips finally into the smallest hint of a smile. “I’m an idiot, man - I don’t know what I’m doing. But you deserve to hear it.”

 

“Yes, I do.” He replied, but a light had returned to the blue, and he pushed himself up to meet Dean’s lips, finally in a kiss that felt mutual. “But you’re not an idiot. You’re emotionally constipated, but you’re not an idiot.”

 

Dean dropped his head and snorted, feeling himself relax against the solid body beneath him. “Fair enough.”

 

“You’re so smart, in fact, I’m sure you’ll think of a way to make it up to me.”

 

Smiling against starched cotton, he nodded his head. “Let’s find a place to crash.”

* * *

 

 

They hardly made it through the door of the motel before they were entangled again, wet kisses and moans distracting them from the dank smell and horrendous wallpaper. It was all somewhat reminiscent of the first time they’d had sex, fumbling and grasping, more attention paid to ridding the other of clothing than the cleanliness of the room. Neither of them had lasted long that night, and they’d followed their release with fitful sleep and feelings of doubt . Dean was determined that tonight would be a drastically different experience.

 

Dean pushed Castiel to the bed with some force, a small cloud of moldy smell puffing up around them. Cas scrunched his face to it as Dean yanked off his sensible shoes and socks, stripping the angel like his clothing was on fire. 

 

“It’s truly disgusting in here.” Cas said, momentarily letting his attention fall to their surroundings. Lime green and a puke yellow may have had their heyday in the 70’s but the colors were doing nothing to enhance the current romance beginning to heat the room. Dean startled him as he unlatched Castiel’s belt with haste, moving next to the button on his slacks and pulling everything off in one swift motion, leaving him naked from the waist down.

 

“Then I won’t feel bad if we destroy it.” Dean murmured, crawling onto the bed and pressing kisses down Castiel’s thighs. They twitched under his touch, and he let a hand softly trail up until it brushed lightly against his balls. Cas whimpered, growing harder against his hips and fisting the comforter. Dean suppressed a smile at the ease Castiel let go of himself under his touch. After so many years of experiencing him so closely guarded and strict, watching him relinquish his body fully to Dean was gift he didn’t take for granted.

 

“We don’t just fuck, Cas.” Dean whispered, pushing to bend Castiel’s legs and leaning down to lick a stripe across his balls. The angel cried out, arching his back and thrusting up like a demand. “This is how I tell you – this is the only way I know how to tell you-“

 

He silenced his own ramble by fixing his mouth around Castiel, drawing in as much as he could with the first swallow. Castiel gasped, the shock of the sudden pleasure rendering it nearly soundless. Drawing his wet lips up Dean paused to tongue lightly at the slit, feeling him jump a little at the tease.

 

“Dean…” Cas hissed through his teeth with impatience, and he finally let himself smile as he continued to bob. Dean loved this - breaking this man down to his foundation, watching him act on bare instinct alone. There was nothing angelic in the way Castiel threw his head back or called his name. He paused only to strip himself, one article at a time, always returning to lick or suck after each was removed. Castiel growled, removing the rest of his own clothing with haste before gripping at Dean’s shoulders, just to be touching him.

 

Dean finally added hands, one grasping strongly at the base, the other cupping his balls gently. His angel wouldn’t last long with this onslaught. But the point wasn’t merely to see Cas get off - it was to wholly show what Dean felt for the man, had always felt for him. So he slowed and worked him quietly, expertly, drawing him to a precarious peak, only to pull him gently back from the edge.

 

Somewhere in his ministrations, he began to prep himself, having salvaged from his pants pocket a small bottle of lube he’d begun to carry around on a regular basis. The task being more perfunctory than for pleasure, he wasn’t surprised that Castiel hadn’t really noticed the single hand that was missing from his body. By this point he was nearly at that messy stage Dean wanted him in - fucked out and raw, breathing, moaning and writhing the only actions he seemed to be capable of making. 

 

“Cas…” Dean whispered, carefully stretching his aching jaw as he sat up. He soothed a clean hand down Castiel’s flushed cheek. “Cas - look at me.”

 

The angel blinked gingerly, squinting a bit against the yellowed light of the room. He brought his eyes into focus, finding Dean like a north star. His wide mouth turned to a lazy smirk, and his chest rose with a deep breath. It was then he noticed the missing fingers, still buried within Dean where he stood on his knees before him, hard and leaking.

 

“You’ve been busy.” 

 

“I need you to understand.” Dean finally moved his hand away, only to use it to coat Castiel. The slickness was met with another hiss - the angel was bordering on overly sensitive. “I’m never going to be good at telling you how I feel. Never. But I’m good at this - I can make you feel it.”

 

He lined himself up over Castiel, preparing to sit quickly and be filled in one filthy, succinct motion. Instinctively he wanted to make this fast and hard, leaving his angel satiated and blown apart. But he shifted, leaning forward over him, sucking at his bottom lip gently before he made his request.

 

“Put me on my back, Cas.” He spoke against stubble, tasting the salty sweat at his jugular, racing under his mouth. “Make love to me.”

 

The angel moaned like the words alone had drew him over the edge and from the sound, Dean expected to feel something warm shoot across where their bellies were still lined up. Instead Castiel drew him closer into a hug, and Dean went languidly against him, letting every bit of his body stretch across Castiel’s as if to cover entirely. They stayed that way for a moment, and he’d never felt closer to another person, cocooning the angel in a way that wasn’t overtly sexual despite their still raging erections. It was as if they were one shared piece of flesh, and Dean felt safer than he could remember feeling.

 

Cas rolled them gently, pressing kisses against Dean’s closed eyes, the throbbing pulse at his temples, the peak of his chin. Kept kissing him as he pushed himself in tenderly, bending Dean’s legs to his chest. Each slow thrust was met with quiet gasps, as if moaning louder would disturb the serenity of the moment. 

 

Two contrasting sensations competed for Dean’s full attention - the acute pleasure from the wet heat moving inside of him, speeding up slightly to hit that spot inside that would break him apart - and the solid weight of the angel, his body leaning fully against his own. Their foreheads rested together and they shared breaths, breathing in what the other breathed out. It was intimate in a way that was beyond any sexual experience he had, blending the worlds where the two came together. He gripped the angel tightly as if he could pull him into himself, make him understand conclusively how his life was complete with Castiel. 

 

“I want you to come with me.” Castiel’s words were croaked out, and Dean nodded against him, taking himself by the hand and building on that churning feeling in his gut. They rocked together faster, breath hot and increasingly shorter. Dean lost himself so easily in their moaning mess, and he came powerfully, crying the angels name against his mouth. Castiel tumbled after him, shuddering to a halt, their lips pressed tightly in a sloppy, beautiful kiss. 

 

They were breathless in their aftermath, and Dean swelled with affection for the man in his arms.  He rubbed his hands up and down his back solidly, as if the action would draw them both back from the bliss. After a few minutes reality started to set in, the heat and smell of the room slowly registering. They’d neglected to turn on the old AC in their haste, and the room was sweltering from the unreleased heat of the day. But the satisfied sigh that left Castiel kept Dean in place - if the whole damn room caught fire he wouldn’t move until his angel did.

 

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel shifted to let his head fall to the bed, burying himself in Dean’s neck. “That was incredible.”

 

“That was not half bad.” Dean chuckled, kissing Castiel’s ear and squeezing him tightly. 

 

“I don’t want to move,” he said, with a slight groan. “But it’s quite warm in here. Forgive me?”

 

“Mhm.” Dean murmured as Castiel pulled away, moving to the cooler half of the bed. Dean rose to turn on the air and swipe a towel from the bathroom (the decorations no less hideous than the rest of the room). A satisfied smile graced his lips as he returned, cleaning first his nearly comatose angel and then himself before climbing back into bed beside him. The air came on with an angry bang, beginning to fill the room with an icy chill. He pulled back the covers carefully, and then covered them both with a starched sheet, which seemed to be the least offensive thing in the entire room.

 

He wrapped his arms around Castiel  who buried himself in his chest. They were quiet for a time and the angel’s breath was steady - it was a rare occasion that he actually was able to sex Cas to the point where he slept after their activities, and he was quietly proud he’d managed to this time.

 

“I love you too, you know.” A quiet admission spoken against his collarbone came as he’d felt himself begin to drift. He smiled and nodded, pulling Castiel closer, satisfied that at least for today, he’d made the angel understand how much he was loved.

  
  



End file.
